Spirit's Guidance
by Blonde Panther
Summary: FE13. A collection of one-shots in which Prince Marth looks out for his descendants and their relatives. But is he really who he thinks he is, or is he nothing more than a stray spirit who thinks he is the legendary Hero-King? Maybe we'll never know.
1. Cold Comfort

**Disclaimer: **Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

**Characters:** Chrom, Marth (Einherjar).

**Pairings:** None.

**Warnings:** Spoilers for Chapter 9.

_**Author's Notes:**__ While he hasn't seen a whole lot of use in my first few files, over the course of my Hard Mode file I've grown VERY fond of the Pr. Marth DLC character. As a Marth fangirl in general I'm interested in the relationship between ancestor and descendants… I might turn this into a series if I come up with more prompts, but for now this stands as a short one-shot._

* * *

_Emm…_ Chrom pressed his forehead into his hand hard, trying desperately to hold back his tears. Robin said there was nothing anyone could have done to change his sister's fate, but what did she know? He wasn't supposed to be 'anyone'! He had been Emmeryn's _brother!_ He should have saved her! If only he'd been stronger, or smarter…

He put his other elbow on the table, joining his free hand to the one on his forehead. It was a good thing it was the middle of the night and everyone had gone to bed- if Lissa saw him crying, she'd lose it as well, and if Frederick so much as suspected he was upset, he'd never hear the end of it.

The maps and scrolls full of tactics that Robin had written up had already been shoved off the table, having been proven unsatisfactory in distracting him from his grief. He didn't look up when he heard the rustling of the paper scrolls against each other or against the table. Great. Someone'd woken up and seen him… and for some reason decided to clean up the mess before bothering with him. Probably Miriel.

He gasped for air when an ice cold hand was put on his shoulder, and looked behind him. Even before he recognized its face, he spotted the faintly glowing, blue aura that encircled the spirit like a corona. The Einherjar of his ancient ancestor stood behind him, one hand on his shoulder, looking at him with that blank stare that he had grown accustomed to.

"Lodestar," he managed, still refusing to call the spirit by the name of the man it resembled. It wasn't the Hero-King, no matter how much it may have thought it was. He wondered how the Einherjar had found him and why it was staring at him like that- the spirit never sought contact. It only followed Robin's orders, like it was supposed to do. It was almost entirely incapable of speech or emotions- although the tactician claimed it had held intelligent conversation with her in the Outrealms.

"…what do you want?" Did Einherjar require sustenance or rest? Robin had summoned it from the card and not dismissed it since. Was it tired? "I can try and find your card if you-" he interrupted himself when the Lodestar held out its other hand. He had no idea what it wanted from him… "Listen, I'm not in the mood to deal with your malfunctioning-"

Suddenly, the Einherjar stretched its free arm, putting its hand on the back of Chrom's head, and pulled him in. Without really knowing why or wanting to, the Prince of Ylisse let the spirit embrace him, putting his face to its chest and no longer attempting to stifle his tears. The mirror image of the long dead king let him cry, patting his head as if to comfort him… much like Chrom imagined a father would have.


	2. Falchion

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own Fire Emblem.

**Characters:** Lucina, Marth (Einherjar).

**Pairings:** None.

_**Author's Notes:**__ Guess this is becoming a series! I'll try to spread the interaction between Chrom and Lucina a little evenly, and probably some with Lissa, Emmeryn, Robin and Morgan. Maybe we'll see some other Einherjars popping up from time to time, as well. Merric comes to mind…_

* * *

Lucina could hold her own in battle. She'd fought her way past hordes of Risen in order to make it to the Outrealm Gate in her own time, and in this era, she had fought a great many of them on her own until she had joined forces with her parents. Really, she should have had no issues fighting these guys…

But for whatever reason, she found herself bested. A herd of Wyverns had cornered her, and quite frankly, the unending assault of lances and axes was slowly wearing her down. She saw no chance to use Aether to restore her strength, and slowly but surely, she was starting to slump against the wall.

It wouldn't all have been so bad if she'd still had Falchion on her. But she had given it to Morgan to see if the sword found him worthy, and neglected to bring it with her when she had left for kitchen duty…

She saw the silver axe of the nearest Wyvern Lord rising again, and she smiled despite herself. Curse her carelessness. But at least her father had been warned. She might still have changed history… the Lucina of this age might not have to suffer the same fate she did. With those thoughts, she shut her eyes and waited for the blade to come down.

However, instead of feeling an axe ending her life, Lucina heard a Wyvern's death cry. Opening her eyes in shock, she saw that all of her attackers had turned their heads to something behind them. The one who had been about to kill her was on the ground, his Wyvern sliced into two clean halves not far from him. Lucina immediately saw that the cut had been made by Falchion.

"Father!" she called out, believing Chrom to have separated himself from the rest of the army to save her, "Why are you… huh?" When one Wyvern turned around and attacked the person behind the horde, being sliced through much like the first one, her line of sight was cleared. Behind the beasts wasn't her father or even her brother, but…

"…Lodestar?" She needed a few seconds to fully comprehend what was happening. The Einherjar of the Hero-King was definitely holding her Falchion in one hand, and judging from the damage done to the two Wyverns, it was definitely allowing him to wield it. But how?! Einherjar were nothing but spirits who THOUGHT they were the people they resembled!

The Einherjar cut up two more Wyverns before the remaining beasts turned tail and flew away, despite their undead riders tugging on their reins to attack him. The Lodestar watched as they flew away, but once they were far enough away, he walked up to Lucina, setting the Falchion on the ground against his leg and extending his hand to her. She let him help her up and started patting down her clothes.

"Lodestar… No, King Marth… you…" she was confused, to say the least. She realized how little their company knew about these Einherjar. Was the spirit in front of her really her distant ancestor? He had to be- how else would he have been able to wield the sacred sword? But at the same time, that was impossible! The Hero-King was long dead…

More importantly though, assuming that the spirit really was King Marth, did this mean he was going to keep Falchion for himself? It was HIS sword, all things well considered. It would be his good right to continue to wield it.

Once she was finished patting herself down, King Marth reached for her, shamelessly touching the skin around a particularly nasty gash left in her chest. He didn't speak, and his facial expression betrayed nothing, but his touch was gentle and when he took his hand back, he used it instead to take Lucina's own. With his other hand, he picked up Falchion, and he turned around, tugging on Lucina's arm gently.

He led her back to the main body of the army, where he ignored the questions posed by their fighters as he took her to see her aunt Lissa. When he finally let go of her, he also placed the Falchion in her hand before wandering off.

While Lissa set to treating her wounds with a Mend staff, Lucina tried to see where he was going. It was nothing special- he'd walked over to the convoy, where he pulled a silver sword out of the carriage before heading back to where the fighting was happening, with no rush. In passing her, though, he looked over at her.

His face expressed nothing, and yet, Lucina felt compelled to smile at him reassuringly and mouth 'thank you' at him before he was gone.


	3. Memories

**Characters:** Marth (Einherjar), Robin.  
**Pairings:** None.  
_**Author's Notes:**__ This one's a little different from the other two. It's set in a DLC map, specifically the one from Champions of Yore 2, shortly after winning the battle. For those of you who haven't played Awakening or the DLC, the Champions of Yore episodes take place on the map of Talys._

* * *

He sheathed the rapier he'd been given by the tactician, walking up the cliff near which he had finished his last foe. He should probably have gone to join his allies, but something drew him to the cliffside, and he figured the tactician would find him when it was time to return to their world.

He stuck his hands into his pockets and stared out over the sea, letting the wind tussle his hair and pick up his cape. He inhaled deeply, almost tasting the salt air of the ocean, and shut his eyes. Somewhere beyond the horizon, something was calling him. He didn't know what it was, just that it called him. It had since long before the tactician had appeared and taken him to her world. During the battles there, he had forgotten, but now that he was in the familiar island kingdom again, he felt the pull once more.

He wondered what it was. If maybe, once the tactician's battles were done, he could GO there. Find what lay beyond the ocean. Find what it was that was calling him… "Ah…" it was hurting his head to think about it. He'd never really given it much thought, but now that he was trying to dig into his memories, his head started to hurt, not unlike a serious case of migraine. Groaning, he held on to his head with two hands and doubled over, hoping for the pain to stop.

"Lord Marth?" he heard the familiar voice of the raven-haired woman, even if he didn't see her. "Are you alright?" He held out one hand as a sign that she had to be silent, and she grabbed on to it to help stabilize him. Maybe a good idea, considering how close to the cliff he was standing. After a few seconds, his head stopped throbbing and he could stand straight, sighing in relief. "What happened?" the tactician asked. "Should I send for Lissa?"

"No," he said, "I'm fine. Were we leaving, my lady?"

She nodded, and he now noticed the card she held between the fingers of her left hand. She'd crossed them, but the gilded piece of parchment was clearly visible. When she saw him looking, she held up her hand to offer it to him. "The old man gave it to us," she explained. "As our reward for retrieving the cards of the others."

"I see." He took the card from her and turned it to look at its face. At the top of the frame, the card said 'Roy of Pherae,' while at the bottom, it said 'The Red-Maned Lion.' Depicted on the face of the card was indeed a red-haired man, looking younger yet, or at least not older, than Marth himself. "Another swordsman," he said, recognizing a weapon in the redhead's left hand. "And a fairly skilled one." He had fought the man on the card just minutes ago. Handing it back, he concluded: "I believe you'll find Lord Roy a worthwhile addition to our army."

The tactician took the card and put it into an envelope she seemed to have crafted specifically for that purpose. Marth thought he saw another card, seemingly blank, in it, and furrowed his brow –why would she not consult with him on that person?- but he didn't press. While she claimed to value his advice, he would not force it upon her if she didn't feel it was needed. "So why are you here?" she asked, "We were looking for you at the gate. It's not like you to wander off on your own."

"Ah… 't Is nothing, milady. A personal matter… it will not interfere with my service to you."

She gazed at him thoroughly, but then shrugged. "If you're so sure. Let's go then, Lord Marth. You know how Chrom gets when we keep him waiting…"

"Yes, of course," he said, following her and grateful that she didn't pry further. Honestly, he didn't know how to answer her question. His lack of memories was bothering him, now, but as he and the tactician rejoined the rest of their army, he swore that he would regain all of them… or at least figure out what lay on the other side of the sea.


End file.
